


Cloud Nine

by Ltleflrt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Do not repost, Dom Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masochist Castiel, Mating Bites, Scratching, Spanking, Spontaneous Rut, Sub Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: “Hey, angel.” Dean’s voice is warm with love and pride, and it makes Castiel squirm in his bindings.  “You think you can take more?”





	Cloud Nine

“Tell me what you need, Cas.”

The whisper is as warm as the breath carrying it to Castiel’s ear, but goosebumps rise up on his flesh. He gasps as they cross oversensitized, burning skin. Above his head, his fingers curl against the cuffs holding his arms aloft, and the tips of his toes dig into the soft carpet under the balls of his feet. 

His mate chuckles, warming Castiel again. Even though there is no skin to skin contact between them, he’s like a pillar of fire at Castiel’s back, the sensation enhanced by the rising welts on his skin. “That’s not an answer, alpha.”

Castiel’s lips part, but all that comes out is a tiny pleading noise. He pulls in air to try again, almost tasting the sweet-tart scent of aroused omega that clouds around him. He licks his lips, chasing every molecule. _More,_ he thinks. It’s the only word he remembers aside from _Dean._

“Do we need to stop?”

No, no, no, not yet. He moans through trembling lips.

When Dean doesn’t respond right away, a jolt of panic makes Castiel jerk in his bindings. His body sways, and his fire hot ass comes into contact with Dean’s thigh. He gasps and trembles and presses into his mate as best he can with what little leeway he has available. 

And the words come. “Please, Dean!” He hardly sounds like an alpha, his voice reedy and breathless. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop--”

“Shhh, angel,” Dean says. “We can go a little longer. Just going to use my hands though, okay? No more paddle.”

A sob works its way out of Castiel’s throat and he sags with relief. Until Dean’s nails rake across his shoulder blade, making his whole body sing with pleasure and pain. His voice cracks when he cries out, and fresh tears leak from the corners of his eyes, soaking the emerald green cloth keeping him blind.

Dean’s palm smacks down over Castiel’s left ass cheek. The ripple of pain isn’t as deep as it had been with the paddle, but Castiel doesn’t miss it when Dean’s strong fingers squeeze the muscle. His hand disappears, but then lands in three quick swats, alternating sides and making Castiel rise up higher on his toes and squirm. Two sets of nails scratch Castiel, starting on the balls of his shoulders and leaving a stinging path down to the bottom of his ribs. 

He loses himself in the patternless rhythm of Dean’s touch and the mingling scents of desperate alpha and slick omega. Each smack, each scratch, pushing him further out of his own head. All he sees is green, all he hears is the clap of palm against skin and the harsh sawing of his own breath in his throat.

When it stops he barely notices. His skin burns from shoulder to thigh, and he lets himself sink into the pain, relishing every throb and pulse.

“That’s enough, angel.” Dean’s voice comes from in front of him, and Castiel rocks forward, seeking his mate’s heat. 

Strong hands cup his face, burning hot, thumbs brushing back and forth over his cheeks. They hook under the blindfold and lift the silky cloth. Castiel eyelids flutter, but the soft yellow light of the bedside lamp is too much for him. 

Dean strokes his cheeks, runs fingers through his hair. He uses his nails against Castiel’s scalp, but lightly, just enough to send waves of relaxation down through his neck muscles and into his shoulders, relieving some of the strain of being held above him for so long. While Castiel’s consciousness floats somewhere inside his body, Dean praises him softly. “You’re so good for me, angel,” Dean murmurs. “Good alpha, my sweet mate. Gods, look at you, you’re perfect.”

Castiel’s mouth works. It takes several tries to make the tiny sounds escaping from his throat into something meaningful. “Dean…”

“Hey, angel.” Dean’s voice is warm with love and pride, and it makes Castiel squirm in his bindings. “You think you can take more?” 

He wouldn’t even have to use his safeword. A simple “no” would suffice, and Dean would instantly release him. But he doesn’t want out. He gathers his concentration and forces lips that don’t feel like his own anymore to move. “Dean...”

“Yeah, I think you can too,” Dean says with a soft chuckle. 

Castiel expects him to move away, to circle around behind him again. But Dean stays where he is, hands cupped softly around Castiel’s cheeks. 

“Open your eyes for me, angel.”

He wants to protest that he can’t, they’re not his eyes anymore and he doesn’t have control of them, but alpha stubbornness sparks inside him. It begins to draw his consciousness back to his center, and with what feels like monumental effort he lifts his eyelids just enough to peer at Dean through his lashes. He’s not quite able to focus, but he recognizes the blurred shape of his mate’s face.

“Come on, lemme see those pretty blues.”

His consciousness struggles to pull back into itself, and he regains another sliver of control. It allows him to obey the order, to open his eyes, to force them to focus. 

A slow, proud smile spreads across Dean’s features. The skin around his eyes crinkles, and his teeth flash white behind pink lips. “There you are, angel.”

“Pretty omega,” Castiel whispers in awe.

“Beautiful alpha,” Dean counters. His scent becomes more tart, lemony with happiness, and Castiel’s heart thuds faster in response. Strong fingers tighten slightly against Castiel’s face. “I want you to keep your eyes on me, angel. Can you do that for me?”

Castiel manages to nod, exhausted from the effort to speak. 

“That’s good, angel. Very good.” One of Dean’s hands disappears from Castiel’s face, but before his sluggish brain can process its loss, it reappears in an even better place. 

Dean wraps his fingers around Castiel’s swollen knot, making him cry out at the jolt of pleasure-pain. It zigzags inside of him, bouncing around inside the cage of his ribs before dropping back down deep in his belly. 

“That’s it, angel, yeah…” Dean stares straight into Castiel’s eyes while keeping up a pulsing massage around his knot. “Gonna come for me, aren’t you?”

More tears well up in Castiel’s eyes, but he refuses to blink them away. He keeps his eyes on his omega, his soul drinking up the love and pride in Dean’s gaze. His body rocks forward, seeking Dean’s heat. The scent of fresh slick makes his head spin, and he cries out as his knot swells impossibly bigger.

Dean shuffles closer until they’re pressed together as tightly as they can while standing upright. His other hand drops, and he twists a little to reach behind himself. Then it forms a tight tunnel around the rest of Castiel’s cock, making him gasp when he realizes that Dean’s hand is coated with his slick. “Come on, angel, come on.”

Despite his limited mobility, Castiel does his best to fuck into Dean’s hands. When he feels the orgasm rise up inside him, he takes a deep breath through his mouth and nose, pulling the essence of _horny omega, mate, Dean_ over every olfactory organ he has. 

His muscles lock, compressing his lungs and forcing the air out of them on a long groan, as his orgasm rolls through him. Against his will, his eyes slip shut and what little pieces of his consciousness had managed to coalesce inside him scatter again.

Vaguely he feels the world shift around him. A pressure around his wrists disappear, and his arms float down to rest around something firm and warm. And then he’s hovering, drifting, gliding… until his body touches down on the softest cloud.

His limbs are shifted and adjusted so that he’s comfortably resting on his side, and something warm and soft is draped over him. Its weight keeps him from floating away. A deep voice murmurs soothingly, too far away to comprehend what it’s saying, but Castiel still listens as keenly as he’s able. He knows that voice, loves its owner with every piece of himself.

The voice goes even further away, and Castiel’s eyes slit open, searching for his love. They focus on a large man walking away from the bed. He’s distracted by the gorgeous curves and angles, toasted bronze and creamy pink, concentrations of tiny speckles. When he sees the sheen of slick dripping down the inside of the man’s thighs, a possessive growl rumbles in his chest.

There’s a happy noise, wordless, but Castiel’s lips respond to it by lifting at the corners. 

Holding his eyes open feels like holding up the sky, but he watches the man-- _his mate--_ move around the room until he returns to the bed. Then Castiel lets his burden go, and his heavy eyelids fall closed. A warm body joins him on the cloud and pulls him close, anchoring him more firmly than the soft weight over his shoulders.

xXx

Stinging pain in his shoulders and ass pull Castiel up into consciousness and he quickly rolls from his back onto his side with a soft hiss. Because his wires are crossed, blood instantly rushes to his cock and it jumps with excitement. And then his skin begins to tingle as hormones flood his veins.

The living furnace that is his mate shifts at his side. “Cas?” 

Castiel’s eyes shoot open, and an aggressive growl rips through his chest. Dean goes still, half turned to look at Castiel over his shoulder. 

Alpha instinct driving him, Castiel pounces. He manhandles Dean onto his stomach. The scratches and bruises on his back burn with every movement, and the pain spurs him on. With one hand spread over the base of Dean’s neck to hold him in place, Castiel reaches between them and guides his aching cock into his mate. The tight channel is already slick and welcoming, and Castiel sinks into it with a pleased rumble.

When his mate tries to move, Castiel snarls and clamps his teeth into his skin. He holds his mate down with an iron grip and begins to roll his hips, hard, fucking into his omega. 

The sound of grunts and whines and slapping skin fill his ears, and his jaw tightens. The omega under him lets out a yelp. He squirms, but Castiel’s warning growl fades when he realizes that his mate is spreading his thighs, rocking his pelvis to let Castiel fuck deeper.

_Good omega!_ his mind crows, but his jaw stays locked tight, so he expresses his pleasure with soft grunts and growls. They’re echoed by the omega trapped under his body.

His knot swells slowly, catching the omega’s rim on each thrust. Lemony sweetness fills his head with each huffing breath, growing tangier every time he tries to pull free and the omega’s body tries to keep him locked inside. 

And then he’s caught, held fast. His knot throbs, and he’s coming. His jaw muscles go rock hard, and copper washes over his tongue. His omega wails, body thrashing under Castiel’s weight. Then he goes still, every limb lax, his tangy scent softening into something sweet like lemonade.

It’s not until Castiel’s knot starts to go down that his mind comes back to him. He blinks at Dean’s freckled shoulder, and forces his jaw open. 

“Shit,” he whispers. “I did it again.”

Dean only laughs.

Castiel licks tacky blood from his lips and smiles at the lattice of scars across Dean’s shoulders. Each mark matches Castiel’s teeth perfectly. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

“I’ll wear as many marks as you wanna give me,” Dean murmurs. “It’s a fair trade for the ones I left on you last night.”

Castiel’s shoulders shift. They sting where Dean’s nails left their mark. He knows if he looks in a mirror he’ll see bright red welts that look almost like wings. He loves Dean’s marks, loves being his omega’s angel. 

He rests his cheek on the shoulder that he didn’t gnaw on in the midst of his rut. Luckily Dean doesn’t seem bothered by his weight, because he’s not sure he’ll be able to move for a little while, even after his knot goes down. “Still though… people give me Looks whenever you take your shirt off at the pool.”

Dean shifts until his arm is free from Castiel’s weight and the tangle of blankets, and he pats around over his shoulder until his fingers land in Castiel’s hair. He rubs Castiel’s scalp with his fingertips. “They’re probably just impressed, angel. Thinkin’ the big bad alpha is takin’ good care of his omega.”

_If only they knew who really takes care of who,_ Castiel thinks with a sly smile. “Do you feel taken care of?”

“Completely. I am all fucked out.” Dean chuckles into his pillow. “How ‘bout you, angel? How you feeling?”

Castiel wiggles his arms under Dean’s and hugs him around the chest. Despite the light tone, he knows that it’s a serious question, so he takes a few minutes to take stock. He’s sore. His arms and calves ache from the strain of being suspended from the ceiling, and he’s pretty much on fire from his shoulders to his knees. And waking up in spontaneous rut is going to take its toll. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the day.

“Like I’m on cloud nine,” he whispers against Dean’s freckles and numerous mating marks. “Thank you for taking care of me, Dean.”

Dean’s fingers flex against Castiel’s hair. “I’ve got you, angel. Always will.”


End file.
